


Professional Courtesy

by The_rogue_shadow



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1262668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_rogue_shadow/pseuds/The_rogue_shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A serial killer is loose in the city of Boston, killing young men and stringing them up on city landmarks. It's up to the detective Kyouko Kirigiri to solve the case, with the help of her girlfriend Touko Fukawa. But has the timid young lady got a secret she dare not share?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hard day at the office

The cold Boston apartment building creaked and groaned as the weary detective trudged her way up the wooden stairs. The dark circles around her eyes were pictures of her defeated attitude. The breast pocket of her light blue shirt was torn where she had torn the golden badge from the material. Pink blood snaked across the metal, getting refreshed every time she squeezed the badge in frustration. As a member of the Boston police department, Kyouko Kirigiri was a part of a special task force designed specifically to catch one of the worst serial killers that had ever graced the fair city of Boston; the serial killer that the media had called; Genocider Syo. This killer of unknown gender, age or race, was atypical in that their Modus Operandi had them only kill handsome young males. The weapons that they used was also peculiar, hyper sharp scissors that had the ability to come apart and become two separate blades. But it was the way that Syo killed their victims that had the entire population of the city in terror. Syo liked to crucify her male victims, stringing them up in very public places such as the statues and trees in the Boston Common, and one victim had even been hung off the old Boston state house.   
Kirigiri finally arrived at the door to her apartment, and as she slumped her head against the cracked-paint covered wood. She sighed, feeling the unmistakable tension of a failed day. Her boss had decided to take out all of his frustrations on her today, after one of her long pale purple hairs had been found in an evidence bag. It was a miracle that she hadn’t been fired just for that major blunder. Placing the bloodied badge in her pocket and retrieving her keys, Kirigiri fumbled with them for a moment before finding the keyhole and unlocking the door. 

But as she opened the door and saw the pale and bloody footsteps spread wildly across the carpet and linoleum floor leading toward the kitchen.   
“Touko!” she exclaimed, calling out for her partner; Touko Fukawa, a local librarian and amateur novelist. They had been together for six years, but because of state law, they were denied the marriage they desperately wanted. She rushed into the apartment, casting aside her backpack and keys as she followed the footsteps toward the small kitchen. Bursting through the swinging door, she was stopped in her tracks at the sight of Fukawa lying in a pool of blood, sobbing quietly. Scattered all around her slender frame was dozens of shiny silver scissors. Scissors that closely resembled those of Genocider Syo.  
“I-I’m sorry Kiri, I’m sorry…” Fukawa sobbed when she noticed her, scrambling to stand but continually slipping on the fresh blood.   
“Touko… What is this?” Kirigiri asked, still standing in the doorway, hands gently shaking from shock.  
“It’s me Kyouko, I’m the killer, I’m Genocider Syo!

***

Two days earlier

Officer Kirigiri sat calmly at her desk, staring intently at the pale yellow manilla folder in her hands. The documents within portrayed the previous evening’s brutal murder of fifteen year old model Bryce Steinhardt. It had been forwarded to her department for the obvious reason that it was a Genocider kill, complete with a body crucified in a public place; in this particular case the body had been strung up on the fountain in the botanical gardens. Some of the other police officers in the task force believed that the killer was male, and that these crimes were the result of some retaliation against homophobia, but Kirigiri was not so sure. If they had been crimes against homophobes, why would Syo crucify them, turn them into the symbol of a religion that was notorious for their opposition of homosexulaity. Another piece of evidence on her side was the fact that six of Syo’s seventy victims were public speakers for gay marriage, and two of them were even gay, it didn’t make sense. Kirigiri, and most of the other women on the task force, believed that Syo was another woman, on account of the fact that most of these murdered men were sexual predators, with the belief being that Syo was trying to get revenge for some great injustice done to her.

Kirigiri rubbed her eyes in tiredness, realising that she had just read the same sentence in the report over and over for the past five minutes. She leant back, looking up at the ceiling with a bored face. The truth was that for all of their resources, they were no closer to discovering the identity of the killer than when they had started. Syo had the uncanny ability to vanish with no physical evidence left over for the forensic teams to find. Syo had basically taking them back to the dark ages with technology as well, never showing up on any of the hundreds of cameras that blanketed an area of the city at any given moment, even when she displayed her victims on monuments and the like. 

“Kirigiri! I’m not paying you to sit around and do nothing. Get back to work before I have you shipped back to Japan,” her boss, Sergeant Roman Carter, shouted playfully. He never meant any of the racist remarks he made, but despite being fully aware that Kirigiri had been an American citizen since she was ten, he continued to make the same mock threat. Today however, she just sneered menacingly at the slightly overweight man, causing him to slink away back to his office and hide the entire box of donuts he had behind his back.  
Looking back down at her computer, she gave a weak smile when she saw that it was only about twenty minutes until the end of the shift and she could go home. Not that the work would stop there. A part of being on the Syo task force meant that she would be required to take home quite a lot of homework, most of it on criminal profiling, with the hopes that it might lead them to be able to prevent more killings. Not that she had much hope anymore. From the chart that had been so prominently displayed on the wall in front of her, Syo’s kill-rate was increasing with every passing week, with this week’s number sitting comfortably on eight, or at least eight confirmed deaths. Occasionally a body would be found that had been there for weeks, but no one had noticed it because of where it had been left; such as the time when Syo had left one of her victims on the golden dome of the court house. The choice of body dump was so varied and random that there was no way for Kirigiri or the rest of the police to discern any kind of meaningful pattern, other than that the killer seemed to prefer city landmarks, presumably so that she gets more ‘coverage.’

Kirigiri’s shift soon came to a close, the electronic punch-card buzzing in her pocket as she walked past the automatic sensor. Claiming overtime was an arduous process, and not one she could often be bothered to go through. Today however, since it was near the end of the month and her rent would soon be due, so in an effort to help with that overly-large bill, Kirigiri made her disgruntled way toward the pay office. When she arrived, she found her friend Makoto Naegi typing away furiously on his computer. Naegi didn’t often work in the pay office, but every now and then he would request the posting for some strange reason. Kirigiri had always found him to be a capable officer, and one of the best interrogators in the entire country, if not a bit naïve at times. During a very strange case that took place on her first month on the job, Naegi had completely overlooked a suspect due to the fact that she had just looked innocent. The whole affair had turned out well in the end, but it had come to light that Naegi’s ‘innocent’ suspect had been the murderer all along. He’d never quite recovered from that major blunder, and now meticulously questioned every suspect. He had once told her during their many lunches together, that he was able to break any regular criminal’s story with three retorts, and six for hardened criminals. “Like rounds in a revolver,” he liked to say. 

“Hiya Kiri, back to the wide world of money huh?” he asked, not taking his eyes from the screen.   
“That I am, rent’s due this week,” she explained, earning a small, knowing smile in return.   
“Ah yes, the eternal problem. What kind of overtime hours are you looking at?”  
“I did four on Monday, six on Tuesday and another four yesterday.”  
“A nice round fourteen hours, too easy, I’ll have that added to your pay packet for tomorrow, alright?”  
“Thanks Naegi, and hey, you and Junko really need to come around for dinner another night,” Kirigiri smiled. There weren’t many other Japanese people in the greater Boston area that she knew, besides from Naegi, his partner Junko, the owner of the local gym Sakura, and of course Fukawa, so she had tried to make friends with all of them.   
“Uh, yeah, about that… Junko wasn’t entirely aware that you and Fukawa were… together,” he said awkwardly, suddenly unable to meet her gaze. It took a moment for his words to sink in before Kirigiri got what he was hinting at.  
“I… Oh, I see.”

“Don’t worry, she just needs to get used to the idea. Although be prepared for a few undesirable comments. I’m really sorry.”  
“Hey, it’s not your fault, half the force has the same opinion. I can’t do anything to change it, so I might as well move on with my life,” Kirigiri told him, while inside a pang of deep sadness rushed through her like a flood. Naegi was one of her best friends, and she had no wish to jeopardise his relationship for the sake of her own.  
“Okay… if you’re sure. But I’ll talk to her about dinner, see what she thinks,” Naegi said hopefully, giving Kirirgiri a weak thumbs up. As she turned to leave, Naegi’s radio sparked to life, buzzing with the crackle and pop of static as a female voice came into focus. 

“We have a situation down at the local library, looks like another genocider kill, request a clean-up crew asap,” said the voice. Naegi’s gaze snapped to Kirigiri, but she had already started running toward the exit, all the while whispering “Please be okay Touko” over and over. She knew that she would be fine physically, but Fukawa was a fragile soul, and she was worried that the sight of a murder would break her girlfriend. And she could not let that happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirigiri rushes to her girlfriend's aid. But will she be in time?

The Library where Fukawa worked was only a few blocks from the police station, perfect distance when either of them wanted a romantic lunch in the middle of a busy day, but now, as Kirigiri sprinted along the footpath toward her undoubtedly distressed partner, it felt like a marathon. Police cars blared past her, lights flashing like the signal from a lighthouse, calling her to tragedy. The final stretch was the hardest, every horrible thought running through her mind all at once; what if Fukawa interrupted the killer? What if was caught up in it to? What if she saw the blood and it broke her?

Red and Blue orbs of light like escaping souls signalled her journey’s end, and right down the end of the block, beside the seven-eleven was the library. A multi-story institute of education and entertainment, as Fukawa liked to say. The large clock above the main door seemed to be the place, Syo’s canvas of the macabre. She stopped running at the police line, breathing heavily as she looked around desperately for her partner. The body on the clock, tied expertly to the hands, was beginning to get contorted as the clock continued on its faithful journey to tell the time. From what she could gather from her quick glance, he was a male, confirming the original theory of it being a genocider kill. But at that moment, she was off duty, uncaring of the gore above her.

She finally spotted Fukawa in the back of an ambulance, being questioned by Sargent Carter, presumably to make her more comfortable, since she knew him well. She rushed over to the ambulance, smacking an officer in the face with her badge when he tried to stop her getting past the yellow tape. It was well known in the precinct that Kirigiri would do anything to protect Fukawa, even going so far as to risk being taken up on charges multiple times when other officers had insulted their relationship.

Fukawa spotted her, leaping to her feet and running to Kirigiri, leaving Sargent Carter staring dumbfounded in her wake. They embraced as they met, hugging each other so tightly and closely that they became the perfect mirror of each other, acting and reacting to the other’s movements in sublime synchronisation. Fukawa was trembling, and even without asking, Kirigiri knew that it had been Fukawa that first discovered the body.

“How did it happen?” she asked simply as she started to stroke her girlfriend’s back.

“I-I went next door for a chocolate milk and when I came back…” she trailed off weakly, hands curling into fists.

“It’s okay Touko, I have you now.”

“I was walking through the door and some of it landed on me, the deep, horrible red,” Fukawa shuddered. Just as Kirigiri was about to say something, one of the other officers cried out and started running away from the front of the library. Sargent Carter even jogged over to her, grabbing her tightly by the shoulder.

“Take cover, trust me,” was all he said as he dragged the two girls behind a police car, crouching behind it.

“What? Is it Syo? She’s here?” Kirigiri asked, far too excited for her own good.

“Not exactly, Fukawa, you might want to close your eyes,” he told her and Fukawa obeyed immediately, covering her ears for good measure. Kirigiri, still confused as to what Sargent Carter was getting at, peeked over the edge of the car, just in time to see the hour hand move, the contorted body having had reached its limits. It was ripped apart into various bits. Blood exploded outwards, coating everything in the immediate vicinity in a fine layer of red fluid and gore. Kirigiri caught a face full of blood, instantly regretting not listening to her superior officer.

“C-Can I open my eyes yet Kyouko?” Fukawa asked, eyes still clamped tightly shut.

“NO! Uh, I mean. Just wait a little bit longer. We aren’t sure if this area is safe, so I’m going to take you home,” she replied as Sargent Carter handed her a clean towel to wipe her face. “Is that alright sir?”

“Yeah,” Carter sighed, “But could you bring her by the station on your way to work tomorrow? I still have a few more questions I have to ask. She’s the closest thing I have to a witness.”

“Understood,” Kirigiri said, taking Fukawa by the hand and starting to lead her away.

“This is a bad day to be a librarian,” Fukawa joked weakly, smiling her awkward smile.

***

That night, after Kirigiri had washed away the last traces of the victim’s blood from her face, slumped onto the couch beside Fukawa, who had already taken her sleeping pills and passed out. She smiled, watching the gentle rise and fall of her girlfriend’s chest as she slept away the day’s frustrations. It would still be hours until she went to bed, finding the need to put in at least three hours a night researching the Syo case. She heaved a large box onto the coffee table, pulling out file after file about different aspects of the Syo case. Trace evidence, witness reports, actual parts of the murder weapons. But no matter how long she stared at it, how much she studied profiling, anything regarding Syo’s identity kept eluding her. Even the fact Syo was thought to be a woman was only a guess, and not one based on any real evidence. She slapped one of the heavy folders onto the table, not worrying about walking Fukawa from her drug-induced slumber.

For years how, Fukawa had been plagued with the most terrible of nightmares, dreams of tearing skin and blinding pain. The drugs had been a recent development, and one that Kirigiri knew would not work for long. Many of her Japanese friends had suggested she try more traditional herbal remedies, but Fukawa had always preferred the quicker solution when she wasn’t feeling well. A blinking light caught her eyes, dragging her away from the folders of grisly murders. Beneath her pillow, Fukawa had hidden her laptop, which, if the light was any indication, was still on. Very gently, Kirigiri, slid the large black device from under the head of her sleeping girlfriend, whose head hit the headrest with a thud without the added support of the computer.

Opening the laptop, she found an open word document with pages and pages of words like rows of wheat on a farm. She scrolled up to the top, eager to see what Fukawa had taken the time to write about. The librarian didn’t often find the time to write long pieces of fiction, her slow job of re-organising books and the sleeping pills meant that she barely had free time just to sit down and write. But when she did, it was always a work of great impact, drawing any reader in almost immediately. She’d been published once, under a pen name, but the book had done quite well, even getting to the top of more than a few bestseller’s lists. It had been the royalties from that novel that allowed them to afford their apartment, a fact for which Kirigiri was forever grateful.

As she skimmed the first page, Kirigiri’s smile grew wide as her face flushed red. The story was about her. Admittedly, the name had been changed, as had her position in the police force. But the description was uncanny; there was no mistaking it. Fukawa had written a story about her.

She continued to read, as always becoming instantly invested in the story. The main character was a detective, one that through some terrible twist of fate, had fallen madly in love with a serial killer. The story ended not long after the detective had broken her love out of prison.

‘An unrealistic story,’ she thought, closing the computer. ‘But a very interesting concept for sure. What would happen if a cop was in love with a killer? Would they give up everything to be with them? Or would they do their duty and hand her over for judgement by the law.’

She soon decided that those were questions best left unanswered, and after packing away her files, carried Fukawa to bed, giggling as she started to snore. It was as though she had never found a mutilated corpse earlier in the day. As she herself crawled into bed, Kirigiri’s mind turned to that murder. Had Syo known that they would get to spray the police with the blood from their victim, had they laughed? Were they switching her M.O? Every time she was close to understanding Syo’s motives, her ideas were yanked away by more questions.

“I don’t think we will ever catch Syo,” she whispered, finally saying aloud what she had been thinking for some time. “I think Syo might be that one, perfect killer. That one that lives on in legend long after they stop killing.”


End file.
